


Want

by Stress_and_Starker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Inspired by Music, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stress_and_Starker/pseuds/Stress_and_Starker
Summary: Peter gets bored waiting for Mr. Stark to get out of his meeting.





	Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AccioFanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioFanfic/gifts).



> So my friend Accio put the song, 'I touch myself' by Divinyls in my head and this happened. Yikes.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but that rings true for just about everything Peter does these days. Peter waits patiently for Mr. Stark to finish up his meeting, knows that he will wait here, in the penthouse for at least another hour before Mr. Stark shows up and runs through the schematics Peter brought by.

So naturally, like any sane eighteen-year-old would, Peter makes himself at home on the plush living room couch, digs his fingers into the unforgiving fabric of his jeans and hisses at the relief the friction brings.

He’s hard already, of course he is. He had been from the moment the thought crossed his mind.

Peter wastes no time shimmying his hips until the material gathers around his knees, shaking fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle his groan as his fingers wrap around his cock.

Would Mr. Stark do it like this? His hands were a little bit bigger than Peter’s, rougher, Peter can almost taste the pleasure as he imagines Tony spreading precum over his swollen cock, gripping tightly as Peter writhes on his couch. It’s easy to follow the movements his fantasies have taken, imagining Tony smug and smirking above him – making a joke about how badly Peter wants it – wants him to sweep lower and  _ God _ , Peter’s so ready…

Peter breathes in, wrecked. He forces the thought to fade, splaying long fingers over his quivering thighs, rubbing slowly, softly. He explores the area like Mr. Stark would. Slow and teasing, hearing one of those low chuckles echo in his head, seeing the smug smirk tilt at the corners of Tony’s lips as he brings Peter to the edges of desperation.

Mr. Stark loves to watch Peter squirm. It’s a fact, science – Peter has been present for every test, connected all the dots. He’s been very thorough.

It’s in the way Tony will lean over him to correct his calculations. Warm and strong at his back while he breathes knowledge into Peter’s ear, as if Peter is ever going to remember anything but the hard press of his mentor at his back.

It’s the way Tony always settles his arm around Peter’s shoulders when they walk, or at his waist, even, when Peter’s too battle weary to hold himself up anymore.

Sometimes it’s even how Tony licks his lips and looks at him like he knows the action sends fire through his veins.  

Peter should feel bad about this. He should tuck himself back into his jeans and go wait at the bar like he always does. He’s used to touching himself at home or sequestered away in the side room that Tony keeps insisting belongs to him.

But hey, he’s had to live through the stories of what Tony got up to at his age. He’s had to lose brain cells trying to imagine the scenarios in painstaking detail when Mr. Stark refused to tell the whole story. So, this is like a rite of passage, then.

He closes his eyes and imagines Mr. Stark groaning,  _ ‘Peter’ _ , as he reaches for him and the one word sends molten want down to his curling toes.  

Peter has years of experience in imagining how this would play out. He slips into it easily, imagining how Mr. Stark would take him. This time, he’s in the lab, rattling off something important, but his brain can’t be bothered to conjure any details other than Mr. Stark’s hand on the back of his head as he’s forced to arch over the bench.

_ “You like this, baby boy?” Tony clicks his tongue over Peter’s shoulder as he presses Peter’s head into his notes until it hurts. Peter’s quiet gasp gives him away, Tony pushes harder. “Yeah you do, don’t you?” He gives Peter’s ass a squeeze, punctuating the sentence with a slap that rattles his bones. “This is why you make so many mistakes, hm? You’d rather me just use you like this?” _

It was the tone in his voice – imaginary, but real – dark and amused and degrading in a way that he never would be. Peter lives for it, slicking his fingers with his own spit and sliding in, gasping. His fingers are smaller, shorter, but the full, almost painful burn of two fingers at once is just real enough.

_ “Look at you. _ ”  _ Tony marvels, crooking his fingers just right, Peter wails. _

It was too fast, Peter knew, moaning as he nudged his fingers over his prostate. Too fast, because Tony was too skillful. He’d work Peter over until he couldn’t even remember his own name.

_ “You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you?” Tony growls, predatory. “You were made for this, made for me.” _

_ Peter keens, he’s so close and Mr. Stark had barely done anything at all. He lets himself be hiked further up the table, calloused hands spreading him open, so he can rub the tip of his perfect cock against him. _

Peter was moaning freely now, whining softly with each thrust of his fingers. He’s never felt like this before. He’s desperate, arching into himself and closing his eyes against the bright overhead lights so he could see Tony instead. He  _ needs  _ this. Wants it to be real and not just some pitiful fantasy. He hates himself for needing it.

_ “Beg me for it, Parker.” _

_ “I-I…” _

Peter whimpered, writhing around on his fingers as he forced himself to stop like Tony would.

_ “You’re desperate for this,” Peter tenses around the accusation as shame pools against his desire. “You thought I’d just reward you for getting a couple of calculations right? Please, Peter, you know what I expect from you.” _

_ Peter sobs in response, wiggling his hips on the cock teasing his hole, but Tony’s grip is like steel and he’s left feeling empty – fuck,  _ fuck _! _

_ “Mmnh…” Peter isn’t there yet, but Tony must have seen something break in him, because he edges forward, eyeing him expectantly, patient for once because he knows what’s coming. “Please, please,” Peter sobs, welcoming the burning stretch that’s Tony’s dick splitting him wide. “Fuck me, hard, please, I –“ _

Peter doesn’t get to live the part where Tony enters him in one brutal thrust, because his hips stutter and his fingers twist just right inside him (but they aren’t his, they’re not, not not) and he comes so hard his vision whites out, “Oh, please, fuck, please-  _ Mr. Stark! _ ”

He’s a shaking mess when he comes back into reality seconds later, legs hanging limply off the couch. He knows his black and grey sweater is ruined even before he looks down and realizes that it’s splattered in come.

He makes a promise to himself that he’ll get up in two minutes and fix everything. He just wants to take advantage of that blissful silence thing that happens after every orgasm.

The elevator chimes several floors down and Peter bolts upright so fast he’s dizzy and sick all at once.

Peter doesn’t waste time hoping that the person in question is anyone other than Mr. Stark, because he’s Peter Parker and his luck just isn’t that good. He wipes himself clean on the hem of his ruined shirt and manages to stumble into the bathroom just as Mr. Stark is deposited into the living space.

“Pete?” Tony calls, and Peter catches himself on the edges of the granite sink and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m – bathroom!”

“I can wait.”

Peter’s lungs were frozen, but his heart still beat painfully in his throat. So, he was still alive, and that counted for something, but not much.

In the mirror he was shaking, eyes wide but still blown from the recent orgasm and his lips were red and swollen and- he knew he looked about as fucked as he really was. Tony didn’t have super hearing or laser vision, but he missed nothing. He would get this right away even without Peter’s cum stained shirt.

He wrapped himself in one of Tony’s fluffy bathrobes in a last ditch effort to save face, wondering if he could turn the door knob and fling himself out of the window before Tony can get a good look at him.

He’d survive the fall. Probably. At this point he’s not being picky about the details.

“I’m sorry, I-“

There in the middle of the room, is one of Tony’s 3D holograms. Peter’s so used to their soft blue glow, he recognizes it instantly.

It’s him, on a smaller scale, but rendered in perfect detail as he cries out and comes with Mr. Stark’s name on his lips. And Tony is looking right at it, unblinking. Peter opens his mouth and tries for words, but the strangled sound of panic will have to do.

It does, Tony spares him a glance, reaching up to undo his tie. “Fun fact,” Tony starts. “I have FRIDAY send me little updates on the penthouse when people stop by. Precaution, you know.”

Peter does know. It isn’t so much that Tony worries for a break-in. He’s just gone through too much not to take extra measures where he can.

“You brought the schematics?”

“Y-yes?”

“Cool.” Tony says, but he doesn’t turn towards the work area. He pins Peter with that  _ look _ , that slow and predatory smirk and Peter goes completely still, an actual deer in the headlights as he stares back because he’s unable to do anything else.

“Get undressed.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always lmk what you think with comments/kudos. <3


End file.
